My Blue Heaven
by Dark Flamingo
Summary: And I step out into the world for him, out into the rain, the fights, the broken hearts, all for him. There are old fans of heroin, and wistful in-love girls, but mine is true and cheerful and always there for me, even when I'm not there for him.
1. Tuesday

This is the beginning of a project weeks in the making, it is short, and probably doesn't show the effort put into it, but I am a fan of this story of mine, and I am sharing it with you. I don't expect much hits on this (who reads Kairi/Sora these days anyways?), and even less reviews, but if you've got the time, writing one up would make my day.

So sit back, relax, and try to enjoy this little tale.

* * *

I wake up to the sound of my phone wailing nearly unrecognizable Taking Back Sunday. I roll onto my side and glare at the little piece of technology. It jumps around, clattering across my floor. Down the hall I hear my brother grunt loudly and throw something at his door. I sigh heavily and flip open my phone. I don't really need the little picture on the screen to tell me who's calling; it's pretty obvious.

But I spare the clock a glance, four-thirty-seven, _a.m._. "Oh god," I groan under my breath and answer the call.

"Hello?" I croak, my eyes are slowly widening, and there's no way in hell I'll be able to go back to sleep now, so this had better be good.

"Kairi?" Riku says breathlessly, I hum a confirmation and Riku lets out a quick breath, "Kairi, Kairi it's raining."

Now, if it had been anyone else, Sora for example, I would grumble something and hang up and try to go back to sleep. But it's Riku so I sigh and decide to humor him, "Really? For how long?" I ask drearily. Riku's smiling, I can hear it in his voice, when he replies; "Three days." He sounds a little wistful and I know he's staring out his bedroom window, itching to get out in the rain.

I stumble out of bed and lurch to my window, it's too early for the sun and everything's a sort of hazy pre-dawn grey. Sure enough, there's a light rain, a bit more prominent than a drizzle, but small enough to be near silent on the ground and whistling leaves.

"Will you come out with me?" Riku asks, in a way that can only be described as earnest. Despite myself I have to bite back a grin at his childish joy. "Not now," I shake my head, "It's too early." I hear Riku move around, probably to find his clock, and then a light, "Oh."

Riku usually gets up early, about five or five thirty, though he's usually late for school, which is amazing since the school is only fifteen minutes away. Riku probably woke up because it was raining, he can smell rain, and reacts to it instantly. He loves rain.

"But how about five thirty?" I offer, if the chance of sleep is completely gone, I might as well enjoy the early-morning rain with Riku. Early mornings are extraordinary in a way, for the both of us. There's something special about creeping around when no one else is around, and seeing the brilliant remains of the sunrise. Late nights have that sort of effect too; in the darkness anything could be out there, but it's only you.

"Okay," Riku damn-near _chirps_, like the bluebirds shuffling their feathers outside. I shut my phone and run my fingers through my hair. It's getting close to five now, so I only have about fifteen minutes to get ready. A shower is out of the question, it would wake my brother and he would gripe about it for the rest of the week. Besides, the rain's pretty decent about cleaning people up.

So I set about finding clothes. It takes a while for me to search out the school-issued sweater, white with blue trim, and then I snatch an extra pair of socks and some black tights that I stash in my bag. I tiptoe into my kitchen, which is in an odd state of sleep. Instead of the usual bustle of noise, of screaming kettles, popping toast, my grouchy brother, and whoever else has shown up to mooch breakfast, it's deathly silent.

I set up the coffee maker and sit on the counter, watching the rain outside the window. I wonder if Riku's already outside, standing in the middle of the street, his face turned up to the clouds, eyes closed, letting the rain drops sink into his skin. The rain outside is already becoming heavier, and rattles the screen door in a small, impatient way.

Weather in Destiny Island is usually warm and pleasant, but when it rains, it means business. Flowerbeds flood, as do some basements, sidewalks give away to ankle-deep puddles and mudslides occupy anything even resembling a slope. There are winds that snatch away umbrellas and thunderstorms that populate whole nights—when it's rainy season; it's _rainy_ season.

The coffee maker gurgles to a halt and I pour a thermos of the hot liquid and head for the door. My rain boots are long lost to the deep recesses of our storage closet, so I settle for a pair of thick, water-resistant hiking boots that belong to my brother, he's going to be taking the bus anyways, he won't be needing them.

I grab an umbrella, and slip out the door quietly, locking it behind me. The street outside my house is dreary with the presence of rain, and everything is a lifeless grey shade. The rain plinks cheerily off my umbrella as I shuffle down the street, the too-big hiking boots scuffing noisily on the asphalt.

I hug my thermos close to my chest and sip the coffee lightly. It's not yet cold outside, it will be by the end of the day, and instead hovers at a mild eighteen degrees or so. As I troop down the road I glance into the dark windows of the houses that watch me go by. Mostly empty living rooms or dark kitchens greet me, but in a couple houses an early riser or two shuffles around watching the weather report on mute.

Finally I come to stand outside Riku's house, a modest whitewashed two-story, like everyone else's houses on the island. Unlike everyone else's houses though, all the lights are on inside. If Riku gets up early, _everyone_ gets up early.

When I knock on the door a droopy-eyed half-dressed albino who's definitely _not_ Riku greets me. He eyes me sleepily and then stumbles back inside with a barely-audible grunt. I assume it means I can enter, because that's what it's meant every other time he answered the door. I shake the rain off my umbrella and close it before dropping it on the floor next to my bag.

I don't have to worry as much about being quiet in Riku's house as I did in my own, and freely let my boots clunk on the floorboards. In the kitchen Riku stands at the counter with his back to me, arranging something.

He turns around at the telltale signs of my approach; no relative of Riku's is awake enough to make so much noise. He's wearing his school uniform very casually, the bright blue khakis are at least one size too big and hang like his favorite cargos, and the white shirt is un-tucked, the top three buttons undone, and the tie no where to be seen. He's also wearing his favorite Adidas, all worn out and torn from walking the worlds.

With a smile tugging at his mouth he hands me an egg and cheese sandwich. It's the kind of breakfast sandwich fast-food joints sell on the mainland; partially melted cheese and poached egg in an English muffin. I feel my stomach grumble noisily at the smell of it. They're my favorite, Riku can make them perfectly; I usually end up splattering egg all over the place.

"I love you," I sigh, and take the offered food gratefully. Riku chuckles, perfectly awake, and pats me on the head like he used to do all the time when we were kids. "I knew you'd skip breakfast," He says, shaking his head in half-serious disappointment.

"No time," I mumble and shrug, "Besides, you would've made me something anyways," I smile, Riku grins good-naturally and turns to pour a cup of coffee, his older brother, still partially dressed stumbles into the kitchen, and stares at the mug in Riku's hand. Without looking up Riku passes it to him and he stumbles off again, cradling the drink like it's his lifeline.

"He's never any use in the morning," Riku remarks dryly, I roll my eyes at Riku. "Not everyone's a morning person," I point out, "You're the only one, actually." Riku shrugs and moves for his door. I notice he looks like he's practically floating. I have to grin at him this time, and follow him, noisily clunking my boots.

Outside, Riku glows, like actually gives off an aura of light. He steps out onto the wet path trailing up from the road and shivers as water sinks in through the flimsy material of his worn-out shoes.

I follow a little less eagerly, my umbrella already open above my head. Riku floats down to the road and as I predicted, stands in the middle of the street and lifts his face to the sky. I pull my sweater down lower and sit on the curb, resting my umbrella on my shoulder and silently watch Riku, munching on my sandwich.

First he stares at the sky and slowly becomes energized, a smile curves his lips up and his bright green eyes sparkle with life, his pale skin flushes with the faint cold of the rain, and his albino hair dampens and sticks to the back of his neck.

He closes his eyes and continues to smile dreamily. He doesn't move; he's good about standing still when he wants to, and just smiles up at the sky with his arms open and fingers spread. I sit with my knees tucked close to my body, and watch raindrops jump off my hiking boots and the ground around me. After a while the sky gets lighter and a few brave birds start to sing.

Mornings always seem so magical with Riku, like the kind of scenes you seen in romantic movies, when the two main characters are having a love scene. It's just like that, only less dramatic.

By now Riku's shirt has become completely soaked and sticks to Riku's skin, his pants also, have started to do the same. I know there are a number of girls in our school that also like the rainy seasons, purely for this reason. Though Riku's my best friend, and will never be more, I can see why a pack of them will follow Riku through the halls, giggling madly the whole time.

"Hey Riku," I call softly, Riku starts a little, and slowly opens his eyes and looks at me. And he's _so fucking beautiful_. He doesn't say anything and waits for me to continue. "It's almost seven. You have a blitz-ball practice in twenty-minutes." I tell him carefully. Riku blinks once, twice, really slow and then goes, "Oh." Real slow like and then grins.

"Right. Okay," And just like that, Riku isn't the serene, distant person he was seconds ago, and instead normal Riku, only still glowing and smiling like the most wonderful thing had just happened. In actuality, it had for him.

--

I was about six when I moved to Destiny Island, and within days I was already losing my memories of my home world to the warm, bright sunny days that ruled the islands. Riku and Sora had introduced themselves to me about a week after I had finished unpacking the few things I had. And then, four days later, Riku disappeared.

Sora and I were hiding from the rain in the secret cave, scraping at the walls with some pointed rocks, huddling far from the holes in the cave's roof where rain water just poured.

"Where's Riku anyways?" I asked curiously, Sora blinked at me dubiously, then he grinned that goofy little grin of his that still makes me smile, and said; "Riku likes the rain, he can stand out in the rain for hours, he doesn't care how wet he gets," Sora spoke with a lisp because he was lacking his front teeth and his breath whistled out through the gap noisily.

"Uh," I said, and furrowed my brow, "Why?"

Sora shook his spiky head, "You just have to see him. He actually grins, like, like… he just won the whole series of _9__th__ Wonder_ comics!" Sora exclaimed, I remained doubtful for a long time. Most people are, you just can't explain how Riku reacts to the rain. You have to see it, and even then you might not get it. It's a gift from heaven to him.

So when Selphie asks me why I look so tired I just shrug and sigh lightly,

"Its raining," I say simply, "Riku called me over." Though Riku only calls me or Sora when it rains to share the dawn with him, Tidus, Wakka and Selphie all know well of this. Many, many times Sora and I have lurched around exhausted, while Riku floats around dripping wet beaming at the world around him.

Selphie laughs and twirls her umbrella above her head, shedding raindrops all around, "I wish I could see the rain with him," She says, a little wistfully. I snort and shake my head, "Trust me, you don't." Selphie laughs again, and then directs the conversation back towards our Plane Geometry homework.

Stomping footsteps and the thick smell of chlorine alerts me to Tidus's presence. Practice must be over, and Selphie and I turn out attention to the blond boy glowering around the rainy front yard of the school.

"How was practice?" Selphie chirps, Tidus sighs heavily. Tidus has always loved blitz-ball; he claims that one day, he'll be a star player on a professional team. He may very well; he's surprisingly amazing at it.

"Riku," Tidus sighs, "Is so distracted he ruined the whole practice," Selphie and I look at each other and smother smiles. "Where is he now?" Selphie asks. Tidus gestures vaguely over his shoulder at the squat building that houses the school's pool. On top of the low building I can just make out Riku sitting with his legs dangling over the edge.

I roll my eyes and smile, Selphie giggles helplessly. "He's only on time when it's raining," Tidus gripes, "And then he's so distracted there's no point to him even showing up."

I shrug, "Well, it's _Riku_," The two consider this for a beat then nod in agreement. Riku will always be Riku, and has never tried to be otherwise. As much as I'd like to think the Riku with cold eyes and hate-filled words _wasn't Riku_, it was. It is. Riku has always been himself, no matter what. I sigh forlornly and the school bell shrieks it's first warning.

Somehow, I just know Riku's not coming inside for a very long time.

--

Since a frightening thunder-storm is occupying the sky tonight, Sora and I rent some 1960 horror films and camp out in my basement with a two liter bottle of Sunny-D, popcorn, and partially-stale Easter chocolate. We didn't invite Riku, there was no point, all he wants to do tonight is sleep out on his front yard, and that's all he's going to do.

"What do you think of Riku?" Sora asks me as we sit through the opening credits. I peek out of the corner of my eye at Sora, munching on a handful of popcorn. He's allowed to stay over late since his house is only five minutes from mine, twenty if he swings by Riku's on his way home, which I know he will. His mom is really easy on him, as long as he comes home before three a.m. and does about twenty-five chores a week, he can do whatever he wants.

"Everything," I answer simply, re-directing my attention to the movie as the credits start to trail off. Out of the corner of my eye I see Sora pause and then crack into a big grin before a bolt of lighting scissors across the TV screen and outside thunder roars. We squeal like children and grip each other with barely concealed mirth. Holding our breath we wait for the villain to speak.

This has happened countless times before, and will continue to happen until we run out of old horror films to watch, and that time is a long way off. We've watched some old Japanese ones, though those were mostly talk, and a couple bloody Spanish ones. Though we can both handle the modern horror flicks with all their blood and gore, the old movies are so much better.

By two o'clock we've thoroughly depleted our movie stock, and Sora helps me neaten up the basement before heading for home. I decide to walk him partway, to Riku's house so I can check up on him. My brother, Reno, wouldn't care too much for this, but he's not awake, so he's not going to know.

In our small town there's about a two percent chance of me being jumped walking back home alone, but still Sora nibbles his bottom lip worriedly before giving in when I show no signs of agreeing to stay at home.

As we walk quietly through the relentless rain, watching the lightning light up patches of heavy menacing clouds, the only sound but for the thunder seems to be the light pounding sound of the rain on our umbrellas.

As we walk I eye the shadows nervously. I can't help it; it's partially from the horror films, and partially the fact that I know what they can become. I wonder how Sora can stand walking home on nights like this.

"It's alright," Sora reassures me, catching me eying a long, twisted, shadow cast by a nearby tree, "There's nothing to worry about, Kairi," I nibble the inside of my lip and try not to think too much about what might come from the shadows.

"I know but…" I move closer to Sora and wrap my arm around his. It comforts me enough to expel my fears so that I can enjoy the rest of that walk, shivering whenever the lighting spikes the clouds, reminding me of different movies scenes.

We arrive at Riku's house after fifteen minutes and, sure enough, sprawled out on the lawn is Riku, rolled onto his side so he won't drown on the rain. Immediately Sora and I burst out into laughter. Riku detests looking any less than perfect, and pointedly avoids scenarios involving him sprawled unconscious on his side. But, really, even now, especially now, with his pale hair plastered to his face, his rumpled clothes completely soaked, he still looks beautiful.

His eyes are closed gently, and his lips are slightly open, the corners of his mouth tucked into a faint smile that gives his whole face the peaceful look of a sleeping child. Though he certainly is sprawled, the artless ways his limbs are positioned look natural and the way his clothes have leeched onto his skin makes it so much easier to see how limber and muscled he is.

No matter what, Riku _cannot_ look imperfect. He's like a fucking angel.

I sigh heavily at Riku's stupidity, he hadn't thought to grab a blanket, jacket or even extra sweater, and will probably catch his death of cold. I drop my umbrella and pull my Banff sweater over my head and bend down to put it on Riku.

Sora stands over me, shielding me from the rain with his umbrella as I unbutton Riku's shirt and pull it off, and use the sleeve of my sweater to dry him off before pulling my sweater down his arms and over his head. Riku doesn't even wake up. He's usually a light sleeper, waking at the faintest creak.

But the rain's calming effect on Riku extends to his sleep and he sleeps sounder than even Sora, and when Sora sleeps, he _sleeps_. So all Riku does is whisper something to the grass and shift in his dreams. I have to smile at how silly he looks, curled up asleep, my sweater hardly stretching down his stomach.

"Riku's so stupid," Sora, mumbles, kneeling next to me as I pick up my umbrella again. I sigh lightly and nod in agreement. Sora places his umbrella on the ground by Riku, shielding most of him from the rain. We stand, stretching out our legs."Wish I could get a picture of this…" Sora jokes, smiling widely. I chuckle, "There's always next time," I tell him, holding my umbrella between us, shielding Sora from the rain as well, trying not to shiver in the cold.

Sora looks at me and we're close enough to kiss. But neither of us moves. I see Sora's Adam's apple bob as he swallows and I try not to get absorbed by his bright blue eyes. Riku breathes slowly and evenly into the space between us.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Sora says; it comes out like a question, though he didn't mean it to. I nod, "Yeah." Still, neither of us makes as if to leave. A breeze scatters water off of a tree and pelts down on the umbrella. Sora leans in a bit, and hesitates a moment before pressing his forehead against mine. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a small sigh. I breathe in his breath, and the smell of popcorn and mint. His eyelids peel back and his bright, bright blue eyes stare intently at me, sending a lightening bolt down my spine.

I'm the first to move, a quick, though hesitant, step back. I smile, and feel my cheeks flush warm. I open my mouth a little, trying to figure out words to say, and then turn and walk back down the street, hugging the stem of my umbrella close to my chest. After a moment there's the sound of mud squishing behind me, and I look back to see Sora sprawled out on his back next to Riku, hands clasped behind his head.

Above them, looking so comfortable even in the cold rain, small patches of sky peek through the clouds show swathes of stars, of far-off worlds, smiling down at their saviors. I grin as Sora's audible snore drifts my way, and continue home.


	2. Wednesday

So this little story has gotten a decent amount of hits, more than expected actually. But no reviews? So be it, I can live with that. So whoever you are reading this, I sincerely hope you're enjoying the time spent on it.

Best wishes, and hopeful kisses.

* * *

Thankfully this morning I'm not woken up at an ungodly hour by my phone, though my late night hangs over me as much as yesterday's early morning. Sluggishly I tromp down into the kitchen with half an hour to spare before school.

The rain sloshes on my mud-infested yard and drills on the windowpanes with the same strength as ever. The sight of my kitchen at eight-thirty is an almost-cheering scene. In some remote corner the radio broadcasts weather reports, my brother, Reno, is hunched over the stove, glaring at a collection of bacon crackling on a frying pan.

The toaster sends a pair of waffles flying, the coffee maker gurgles happily, and the counter remains littered with maple syrup, butter and an assortment of fruits all meant to be eaten later, at the table Wakka pours over the sports section of someone else's newspaper, and through the front door breezes Sora wielding the carton of eggs he's owed us for two weeks and his book bag.

"Morning!" Sora sings, apparently unaffected by his late night, and claps Reno on the back, earning a grunt and several half-formed insults. I pour myself some coffee while Wakka collects his waffles and sorts through the mess on the counter, kindly distracting Sora from those sleep-deprived in the room.

I look down into my coffee. Two more days of rain. Two more days. Riku will call one of us out again, and as much as I'd like to stay curled up in bed, I know if he phones me I'll crawl out into the world for Riku. Really, compared to everything Sora and Riku have done for me, small things like sacrificing sleep seem meaningless. But I know Riku appreciates every morning I watch the rain for him, like how I appreciate every small thing he does, in his own way trying to make up for his mistake.

Sora catches me smiling down into my coffee and leans in to give me a one-armed hug around my shoulders. "What's the story?" He asks, I smile warmly at him with a pleasant hum behind my teeth. _Morning Glory_ I think, behind my droopy eyes. Sora knows, so he tugs lightly on my hair and slips away.

We sit in the hallway, slipped away by the art room. My head tucked in the nook of Riku's neck, feeling the light rumble of his words hum along his throat and shoulder and into me. He smells of rainwater, even though he's in a dry set of clothes, ones that Sora so thoughtfully brought to school, the smell of rain shivers up my nose.

Rainwater is a smell I associate with Riku even in blistering heat, when all he should smell of is sweat and salt and sand, I imagine Riku, and I image the rain.

"Kairi? You listening?" Riku asks, pulling his head off of mine for a moment, scrutinizing the top of my head for an answer. I hum a confirmation, even though I'm lying and he can tell, and snuggle in closer to his cool skin, sighing sleepily into his shirt. Riku sighs and rests his cheek on my head again, after a moment humming a tune, as I smile at the feeling of his words in my bones.

The sound of clown shoes slap-slapping on the linoleum floor alerts me to Sora's approach but I'm too tired and too comfortable to move, I pull my knees a little closer instead. "Hey guys," Sora calls, his steps faltering, shying away. I glance up to catch _something_ slithering in those bright blue eyes.

My lips part on half-words that I can't decide to say and instead let my head droop again, cradled in the smell of rainwater. But as I lean in closer to Riku, hiding myself from the little snake hissing in Sora's eyes, I can't help but whisper the words to Riku's neck, my lips just barely tickling his sleet skin.

_Jealous_.

----

It was late spring or early summer, and the beach curled in between my toes as I clutched my arms close to my chest, trying not to look as scared as I felt because I knew that Tidus would tease me about it later.

On the sand in front of me, feet splashed in the sea and scratched over the sand Riku and Sora were fighting. It was maybe two months after they decided to use wooden swords instead of fists since they'd troop home with so many bruises it had become a battle to be able to play together.

The high clank of sword on sword as the two boys fought would've echoed from the rock if it weren't for the booming sea, though not even the leaping waves and lip-licking salt could erase the look of complete _hatred_ in Sora's eyes as he fended off Riku's forceful attacks.

There was an ear-splitting crack as Sora's sword split in two, splinters lodging in his fist as he let go with a yelp. Riku advanced, sword slicing through the air, Sora stumbled backwards and his foot caught in a tuff of sand, gasping, eyes wide and terrified, he fell back into the sea.

Riku launched himself at Sora, his sword aimed for the boy's neck. My nails bit into my skin and with everything I had I forced the words, "**Stop it! Riku!**" from my mouth; they shattered on the rocks and startled away a few birds. A ways away I heard Selphie's skip-rope slap to a halt.

Riku froze, his wooden weapon inches from Sora's Adam's apple. He breathed heavily, his eyes wide and staring at Sora, half-upright, the ocean tugging at his clothes.

It's a memory I've never forgotten, and as I step from the school to the sight of Riku and Sora shouting at each other, hair matted from the drizzling rain, the feel of sand in between my toes and the crash of a splintering sword echo in my mind.

I stop, and let my umbrella roll limply in my grip and on my shoulder. I'm wary of the two, they have always been the best of friends and the best of enemies, but I thought that after everything, they had put that behind them, that they could just be friends.

But when Sora lands the fist punch it's obvious it's just hopeful thinking. "Sora!" I shout, my umbrella tumbling from my grip as I instinctively race to stop Riku from retaliating. I see Riku ball his fist, his mouth set in a grim line, but his stance isn't one for fighting, it's for standing and taking it.

Through the sound of ocean waves beating at rocks fading in and out inside my head I hear Sora say the word love, sounding so alien on his angry lips. Then I hear it, "_Kairi_". I stop, so suddenly I almost lurch to the ground.

They're fighting, over me?

A word worms its way onto my lips, _jealous_. Jealous that I never hold him that way, never whisper onto his skin, never shared my Oreo cookies with him in fifth grade, jealous of the difference in love?

Riku mutters something lost to the raindrops and Sora stomps his foot and slams his hands through his hair, his movements as agitated, fidgety, and then he hits Riku again, his knuckles biting into his soft cheek, the second fist smashing his eye.

_Stop it! _"**Riku!**"

The pavement slaps under my heavy hiking boots, puddles soaking deep into my tights. And then I'm crouched by Riku, my hands smoothing back his hair so I can stare into his eye, pretending not to notice the way he stares back. Pretending that Sora isn't staring (maybe glaring?) at us. Us. Two letters in a word, two lines in a song. Two.

----

Reno never amounted to much for the most of his life. This is sad, but true.

As far back as I can remember, when I was younger, he'd been off drinking around the clock, stopping in at home to smash a few dishes and scream at my parents. From the marks in his arm, he probably had a tendency for heroin too.

But when we came to Destiny Islands, just the two of us, things seemed to change. I'm not even sure if he believed that it had even happened. But for a long while I never saw him, which, on Destiny Island, is nearly impossible.

But one day, while Riku and Sora were off playing in rip tides, and so I couldn't get out to the island, I went wandering around mostly where I'd never really been before. I finally ended up at the graveyard where, on the high hill overlooking the world, if only you stood on your tippy-toes, I found him again.

Even though he looked like he'd been dragged through several deep puddles, and hadn't eaten in weeks, Reno looked better than I ever remembered seeing him. Once upon a time I had been scared of him, but when he bent low to my level, bright eyes nervous and scared and sad, and curled his long thin fingers around my shoulders, and said, "I'll protect you now," I had believed it.

I've never stopped believing it, especially when he's the only thing left from my home.

I sit at the kitchen counter, willing my dry mouth to grind through the undercooked string beans Reno's produced. I work my jaw slowly, staring at the spotted tabletop, running over the events of the day over and over again in my head.

A cold set of bony fingers find mine and tap my knuckles lightly. It's been years, but Reno's hands are still reminiscent of heroin. "What is it?" He sounds impatient, an agitated bite to his voice, but he means well.

"It's raining," I say, lifting my head to look out the window. Reno automatically follows my gaze to the rain-swept road outside. Slowly he nods, glancing back at me through the strands of loose red hair tumbling over his forehead. I wonder if Riku is outside, washing his bruises out with rainwater, or flat on the floor in his kitchen while his older brother forces medicine onto his cuts.

"In heaven," Reno starts, startling me out of my thoughts; I'd nearly forgotten he was there. Reno is used to this, to being forgotten, and he continues with barely a pause, "Do you think we get to choose what age we stay at? That little bit inside where you still feel so much younger?"

I want to ask Reno how young he feels inside, but I'm afraid of his answer. I'm afraid it'll be sixteen, imagining himself shooting up or feeling liquor burn down his throat. Reno looks at me out of the corner of his eye, chin propped on his hand.

"Go see him," He says, but he doesn't say who, he doesn't name Riku, or Sora. So I take the coward's way out.

I go to Riku.

----

The rain batters down on my head, making my hair slick on my scalp, fastening itself to my neck and cheeks. I could've brought my umbrella, but I need the rain to rinse me clean, like no shower can. The rain doesn't change to suit your tastes, it is what it is, and forces you to take it in.

Outside the house I don't spot Riku so I move to ring the doorbell, but before my finger even gets close the door swings open and Riku jumps out, slamming the door heavily behind him. He lets out a breathless sigh, I notice he isn't wearing socks or shoes, and it makes me smile a little. A band aid just barely hangs onto his cheek, half swinging free to reveal a small cut.

He catches sight of me, and does a double take. I twist my hands in front of me nervously, watching his once-dry shirt soak in seconds and his stringy hair go limp around his ears.

"Why are you here?" Riku asks, the sound of his harsh voice startles me, as does the sight of his eyebrows drawn together, and the frustrated angle to his gaze. I blink a couple times, shedding water from my eyelashes.

"I—I," I stumble with words, why _am_ I here? Because I'm too afraid to go to Sora for one thing, but another might just be that I need Riku to tell me what to do. I need him to smooth my soaking hair back from my eyes and smile at me and reassure me that everything will turn out okay, if only I try a little.

"_I can't help you_," Riku spits coldly, shocking me again with the hateful taste in his mouth. I part my lips to say something, but can't think of anything. My fingers stop fiddling and hang limp. "I can't," He repeats, shifting in agitation, hands curling into fists at his sides. I'm struck by the sudden thought that he might hit me. It slices through my brain and twists my insides around.

"It's my fault," He continues, finally turning his angry eyes off of me, staring at the space beyond his shoulder. There's a sudden silence, punctured by the vicious hiss of rain on the road. I notice Riku doesn't seem to have that glow of his, in fact, it seems almost like he wants to get out of the rain. That hurts me more than anything else, more than anything he's said, more than if he hit me. It breaks my heart.

I think I've started to cry. It's a little hard to tell through the damp of the rain on my cheeks.

"Go see him," Riku says at last, sounding as if his heart has finally given up on him. Because it's the first time he couldn't help me, save me? Because he has to leave it to Sora once more? Riku turns sharply and opens his door, without a backwards glance he closes it on me.

Oh my god I hurt so much.

----

My feet move me down the street, hiking boots chomping down on the asphalt nosily, splashing water up my legs. I shiver, though I don't feel that cold. It has gotten dark and porch lights throw the shadows into strange shapes that twist around the trees, lamp posts and mail boxes.

I can't remember where I'm going, but my feet don't stop, even though it's probably too late out. When did I stop wearing my watch? I think idly, that it would be so useful now. I try to think back to what time it was back in my kitchen, gnawing on string beans, but the memory of standing on Riku's front lawn blocks out everything before that. Being warm and dry inside seems like a far-off dream.

I hurt so much. Not just in my legs, tired of walking, or the blisters forming on my feet, not such shallow levels of pain. My insides feel cold, and my heart hurts enough to make me cry. I want a way to make Riku feel better, I want a way to change things back to the way they were this morning. It seems so strange that barely five minutes can change so much for me.

Wood clunks hollowly beneath my feet and I drag my thoughts back to where I am just in time to catch myself before stepping off the dock. The ocean stirs restlessly just beyond my toes, pushing and pulling on the shore. Perched on the horizon is the Island. A strip of sand wound around a mountainous form of rock. I wonder if any other children have discovered the wonder of spending days, years, on that warm sand. Of crawling through caves and building huts to save them from the rain.

I shiver, suddenly feeling the biting cold of the ocean, wrapping my arms around myself I lick the taste of salt off my lips. I sigh heavily, when was the last time we all were on the Island together? I can't remember, it couldn't have been more than a week, but it seems like years since I've felt hot sand between my toes.

I'm too far-off to hear the thump of shoes behind me, only the faint feeling of someone else's warmth as they sit down heavily on the dock at my side.

"How is it that so much time can pass, and yet things never seem to change all that much?" I ask, my eyes locked on the Island, slowly darkening to fit in with the night sky. I hear the sound of something splashing lightly in the water.

"I don't know about that. It used to be I could sit here without getting my feet wet," Sora cracks a smile out of me, and that almost makes me start crying again. I slide my hands up and down my arms slowly to get warm.

"How long have I been out?" I ask carefully. There's a light beep and flash of pale blue light and Sora checks his cell-phone. The dock at my feet and my side are thrown into pale shadows for a moment before he clicks the instrument closed again.

"Well, it's three a.m. now," He says lightly, I blink and check myself for signs of exhaustion, but I feel fully awake, if not wet and cold. "Why does it seem that every time it rains I don't ever get sleep?" I wonder out loud, Sora lets out a little chuckle. I lower myself onto the dock next to him.

"I'm sorry," He says, I finally look at him. His usually crazy hair has shrunk a little in the rain, and his bright blue eyes are sad. I swallow and try out a smile. It feels a little strange on my cold stiff lips, "Don't be," I tell him reassuringly.

He shakes his head fiercely, spraying droplets of water all around, his hands fisting around the edge of the dock. "Don't be so forgiving," He says, his face shaped with pain, and his fingers dig harder into the wood, "I deserve to be hated. Especially by you."

I curl my hands in my lap and look at them, their stark paleness against the dark material of my jeans. Of all people, Sora is the least deserving of hate. For everything he's done, for every bit of love he's shared, for every single time he's smiled for me. I deserve to be hated. For being afraid of stepping off the sand, for not holding on tight enough to his hand, for standing just a bit closer to Riku.

It's my turn to shake my head, so fiercely that slicks of my soaked hair stick to my cheeks, "Not at all." I say to my hands, loose and useless in my lap. I feel my fingers tremble with the want to hold Sora's hand, to squeeze warmth into his cold limbs. If Riku were here, I would hold his hand instead, because it's so much easier. Not because it means less, but because it's easier.

He opens his mouth to speak, and instead heaves out a sigh. The warmth of his breath tickles my arm and brushed over my cheek. I look at him again, outlined against the dark backdrop of trees leaning as far into the ocean as they can. His eyes are partially closed, his cheeks dusted with the pink of the cold air. A drop of water slithers past his ear.

I dip my toes into the water, and slough them through the heavy ocean slowly, throwing up ripples and the loud sound of water against water. "I didn't mean to," I say, feeling the water trickle through the material of my hiking boots. "I really didn't, it's just…" I look at him once more, hoping he'll somehow understand. His friendly blue eyes stare at me piercingly, his face a shield of seriousness, his mouth a grim line.

"Riku needs love," I continue at last, even as I say the words I know they're true, and also see the feeble excuse in them, "And I'm afraid to not give him enough. I don't want him to…change, again." The word 'change' sounds like a lie on my lips. I'm sure Sora hears it to, every time he revisits his memories, every time a flash of anger comes to Riku's eyes, I'm sure he knows that it's not change, it's the same.

"I know," Sora whispers, his voice like a pencil mark in the night air, putting as many truths into the two words as he can. There's a rustle of damp fabric moving as he resettles his hand to rest beside him. The continuous echo of rain on the ocean seems to grow louder, more impatient, drilling into my scalp.

I look at his hand, ready to wait patiently years for me, willing to fight years of battles for me, willing to hurt to keep me where I am. There's a single ring on his forefinger, a band of darkness on his pale hand. My fingers curl expectantly in my lap, the sunrise starts to taint the sky to the right of us, in the blackness of the sky, the stars too close to the sun burn up and fade away. Again, I look to his face, calm, tired and faintly cheerful, looking out to the growing morning in front of us.

I look to his hand, and I look to mine, paler, slimmer, more easy to break, nails chomped on through months of stress, skin stained with years of sun. I drop my hand first from my lap, and then quickly clasp it around Sora's, before the bravery to do so leaves me.

It's a small gesture, so very small in this world, but it's a start. And a start is enough for us; a start is all we need, as we watch the worlds slowly disappear behind the sun.


	3. Thursday

Oh jeez, how I have lost time. This was to be up months and months ago but I lost track of this site. It's a little sad too, because this part is so small, and it has been so long that I am no longer happy with it.

Well I liked it once, so here it is. Thank you for your kind words, I expected so little and got so little, but so full of more.

* * *

My phone gives a jump and bursts into song, fuzzy around the edges, clattering across my floor. Slowly I peel my eyes open, finding Sora's hand where it had been all night, draped over my shoulder, holding me close to his body in a loose, comforting hold. I smile blearily as Sora sighs and settles his forehead against my back. I pick up my phone, carefully so to not upset Sora's arm.

"Hey Riku," I breath in a haggard morning voice, my throat raw like I'd been screaming, though I can't remember ever speaking above a whisper. Between my blinds the sky is a dim grey, but spots of blue just barely pierce through the clouds, promising a final end to the rain.

"Good morning," Riku says his silky voice, a shy smile biting down on the edges of his words, I can tell he's nervous about the previous night, but I can't find the energy in my exhausted limbs to do the same.

"What time is it?" I ask, blinking sleep from my eyes and slowly curling and uncurling my legs, sliding my feet along Sora's shins. Riku lets out a small chuckle, warming the static in my ear, "Five fifteen," He says lightly.

I sigh and stretch out my legs, kicking the covers off, "We'll be right over." I promise and hang up, tossing my phone onto the ground and rolling to face Sora, his hair still sticking damp to the pillow, he blinks his bright eyes slowly, lips curling into an adorable grimace.

"Don't you ever sleep?" He groans, clawing uselessly for the blankets bunched at his feet. I smile at him, the movement natural and unhindered. "Be downstairs in five minutes." I instruct and roll out of bed, scooping up my uniform I head for the bathroom.

Standing in front of the mirror I pull lightly on a strand of my hair, still a little damp and malleable from the rain. I probably smell horrible, seeing as I haven't properly showered in three days, and I catch myself smiling at such a unimportant thought after everything that has happened. I know Riku will forgive me fully, I just hope I can forgive myself too.

In the kitchen it's empty but for Sora, a dreary looking patch of sunlight in the dull grey morning light. He grumbles over the coffee machine, waiting impatiently for it to start producing the drink. I slide past him to work on making toast, and as the coffee maker finally gurgles to a stop I hand Sora a piece of toast and steal the first cup of coffee from under his nose.

Sora hums tunelessly under his breath for a moment, filling a thermos with coffee before murmuring quietly; "Morning glory," under his breath. "Yeah," I whisper, touching the back of his hand lightly.

-

The morning road is brighter with Sora beside me, ducking slightly to walk under my umbrella, but no less serene. He's a quiet walker, and doesn't say anything, not to ask for a sip of coffee, not when he splashes me when he treads through a puddle. And that's just how I like it to be.

Though there are patches of clear, clear blue sky, breaking the heavy clouds into pieces, the rain still sloshes around us, drilling into the ground with as much force as ever. The grass lining the road is mushy with mud, and flooded with murky puddles, the drains hum hollowly as torrents of water drop through the grates.

Coming up to Riku's house I spot him already outside, sitting on the curb, hands clasped loosely, face turned up to the clouds. I smile happily when I notice he's got his glow again, though his expression is slightly wistful, and as a patch of blue passes closely by, I can guess why.

The rain will let up by the end of the day, and by noon tomorrow Destiny Islands will be nice and dry and hot again, and in two days Riku will stop smelling of the rain. And even after everything, the lack of sleep, the fights and the painful make-ups, I can't help but wish that tomorrow I wouldn't be able to sleep through this time with Riku.

When he notices us coming Riku stands up, one swift movement, shedding rain drops around him, and after a second smiles warmly, seeing Sora's hand overlapping my fingers on the umbrella.

"Hey, Riku," I say softly, smiling past the curtain of water sliding off the edge of the umbrella. Sora fidgets a bit before passing his hand through the curtain, for a shake or a high-five it's hard to say. Riku looks at Sora, eyebrows delicately raised. He grabs the offered hand and drags Sora through the curtain and into a warm hug.

I smile, and close my umbrella, for the first time this year, sharing the morning rain with Riku properly; soaking wet, cold, and in the middle of the street, arms spread wide and face up to the sky, ready to hug the heavens.


End file.
